Not Too Big to Cry
by T3h Toby-Chan
Summary: Too big to cry... Ed always kept those words in his heart. But how long could he abide by them before he broke? (One-Shot)


**Not Too Big to Cry**

Toby-Chan

Edward Elric learned things about being a grown-up from a young age.

"Mamaaa!" The blond five year old sniffled, running on knobbly knees toward the brunette woman hanging linens upon a clothesline. He slowed and toddled towards her favoring his right knee, which was badly scraped

"Mama! They pushed me!" He moaned, rubbing his eyes pitifully, "Those boys from school, the ones who say I'm too small. They pushed me off my bike!" He pleadingly clung to her apron, itching at his runny nose, as he begged relief out of the all-knowing sage that was the image of a mother during childhood.

Her face softened, as she kneeled down to his eye level and lifted her small son onto her lap. She held his tiny hand in hers and smiled gently.

"Now now, Ed, you don't need to cry. Those other boys are wrong; you are a big boy," She looked into his watery pink eyes, "You have to start acting like it though. You're too big to cry, Edward. Understand, dear?"

He sniffed back from his running nose, which had already trailed down to his lip, and nodded slowly.

On that day, Trisha Elric had tried to help her son in the way she thought best. She'd given him confidence to act stronger, but she had no idea how much he took her words to heart.

**o.o.o**

"Brother!" Alphonse whimpered, burying his head underneath the patchwork quilt he had twisted himself in, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, "Brother it's not fair!"

"What's not fair, Al?" the older Elric brother inquired, standing above his brother.

Al squirmed.

"They make fun of us! Everyone at school says that we're not a real family because our father's not with us. Everyone else has a father at home but us!" Tears began to stream down Al's cheeks, as his brother frowned in frustration.

"That's just stupid, Al. They don't know anything!"

"But they always say things about us, and about Mama. They even stole my lunch one day." The sandy haired boy began bawling. Edward wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. He sucked in his breath and tried to figure out how he could be a stronger bigger brother, but the only words that came spewed anger and resentment,

"Maybe if you weren't such a big baby they wouldn't pick on you," He snapped gruffly, "It's dumb to cry like that, Al. Only babies cry."

"What are we supposed to do, Brother? Daddy's gone, and Mom's always sad."

Ed clenched his fist, the anger rising inside him. Anger at his father, anger at his inability to help his mother, and most deeply, it was anger at holding back the tears.

"Just shut up Al! You're so stupid! You don't know anything, you big crybaby!"

He turned on his heel and stomped out the door. It was odd, what with all the things he did in his later life that he considered shameful, but that was one of the memories that stuck with him the most; it was leaving his brother crying on the living room floor.

**o.o.o**

"Ed..." The yellow haired girl in her black dress reached out to touch her friend's shoulder. He pulled away, disgustedly for a moment, then settled and hung his head unresponsively.

"Ed..." She repeated, leaning forward concernedly, "Are you sure you'll be able to come?" She asked. He just shrugged unaffectedly. He really didn't know how he was supposed to behave before attending his mother's funeral. An invisible thread tugged at his chest beseeching for him to let his emotions free, but he resisted, and sat defeatedly. He could'nt bring himself to even look at Winry. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but that he just couldn't accept anything yet.

He felt almost selfish, being bitter to this girl who was the only other one besides his brother who could truly know what he felt. Yet still, he couldn't bring himself to believe that anybody really could understand. No nobody could.

"Ed..." She spoke concernedly, "It's okay."

'Okay'? What the hell was that supposed to mean? How could it be okay? It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be him and Al and Mother, and that was the whole world for them. It was supposed to be a happily every after. A world where Mother would never be sad about Father being gone again, because she had her two sons, and nothing else mattered. Now she was gone forever. Just what was 'okay' about that?

"Edward, it's okay to cry." She said softly.

"A-" His voice cracked as he stood up and spun to face her. His eyes were filled with hopeless confusion and frustration and fear. He stepped away, shaking his head.

No. It wasn't okay. It was never okay. He couldn't...

He hurried away from her, leaving her lost and forlorn, having tried to take on a task that was far beyond what her years could demand of her. She stood where she had spoke to him, overwhelmed with her emotion and shed mournful honest tears in his place.

**o.o.o**

Clank, Clank, Clank. The hollow chinks of his auto-mail sounded throughout his panicked mind, and Edward heaved his stressed body to run faster than he knew it could allow. The sound of auto-mail clinking was such a commonplace sound to him, that it had blended into the background of unimportance just as breathing. But at this moment, all his senses were heightened. It seemed as though every paper stirring dust in an alley could be a thunderclap. As though every bead of sweat trailing down his neck were a needle sensation against his skin, and it seemed as though he could feel any variation in temperature through any pockets of night air as he leaped. In his frantic search, even his own breath was deafening in his swirl of fear. This was more than the twelve year old boy was prepared to handle.

His boots skidded to a halt at the corner of an alley. His pupils shrank in terror, and he felt his blood freeze, and prickle under his skin. His lungs were completely paralyzed, and the moment swung to a pause in time.

All his thoughts skidded to a halt, but shot forward just as soon. He choked to comprehend what he saw against the brick wall.

He set his hand against the bloodstain upon the wall. This was- no! It wasn't. It couldn't be. Not her... reduced to this splat of gore against a brick wall.

"Nina..." He gasped, his breath jagged and shuddering, "No... this isn't! It..." He choked and his knees gave way. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The physical pain shot through him like a spear, while he gagged to try to breathe. When his breath finally gave way, it only brought forth an uncontrollable scream of pure and unchecked terror.

"NOOO!!!!!" He held his head, as though it would break at any moment, and in some ways he wished it would. His thoughts moved so quickly. Not Nina. No, not Nina. How could she-... How could it happen?

The image of a pigtailed girl with sparkling eyes surfaced in his mind.

"Big brother!" She said, with a smile.

It couldn't be... that innocent little girl... nothing more than a stain on a wall. He felt the bile rise in his throat. What kind of monster could do this?

He couldn't stop what came next. All his years of supression of tears resurfaced in a blinding flash. All the pain and weight came forth from the tears that flowed down his face.

"I'm sorry, Nina," He whispered tracing his finger the wall, as he choked a sob, "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to save you. I-... I'm just a child after all..."

He broke down there and painfully accepted the truth.

He was still not too big to cry.


End file.
